


Safe

by rolandtowen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Begging Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Nightmares, Dean Winchester is scared of Castiel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gen, but not sexual begging, foot washing, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23128765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolandtowen/pseuds/rolandtowen
Summary: "You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in."“No!” Dean woke up in a cold sweat, heaving. He tasted iron on his tongue.----Dean and Cas have to work through what Cas said in 4x02 - that he has the power to throw Dean back into Hell.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [athair ar neamh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14353134) by [LoversAntiquities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities). 



_You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in._

“No!” Dean woke up in a cold sweat, heaving. He tasted iron on his tongue.

“Dean?” Cas stirred next him. “Beloved, what’s wrong?” He reached out to put a hand on his husband’s shoulder. Dean flinched violently away from him

“No, please! I’ll be good, please don’t send me back!” Dean scrambled backwards out of bed, still flinching away from Cas’ comforting hands. “Please, _please_ , Cas I’m sorry,” he fell to his knees at the edge of the bed.

“Dean, _Dean_ , I’m not going to hurt you, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Cas threw back the sheets and was at Dean’s side in a moment, this time not reaching out to touch him. “Beloved, what did you dream?” Dean didn’t answer and Cas reached a hand to Dean’s bare knee, applying grounding pressure. He knew his husband still struggled with horrible nightmares. Cas took some comfort in the fact that Dean didn’t attempt to shake Cas’ hand off his knee, and he reached his other hand out to Dean’s face, noting the redness in his eyes.

Dean finally melted into the touch, letting out a shaky breath. “I—” he hesitated, trying his best to steady his breathing. How do you tell your husband that your nightmare was about them? “I dreamed about when we had first met, that night in Bobby’s kitchen, and you told me,” Dean tried so hard to hide the shudder that shook his entire body, “you told me you could throw me back in.”

Cas’ breath hitched as he understood Dean’s meaning. His husband was having a nightmare of him, saying he would throw Dean back into Hell. He felt wetness beginning to gather in his eyes, threatening to spill over. How stupid he was all those years ago. How could he not have seen the fragile state of Dean’s soul? How could he have said such a thing?

“Cas,” Dean hiccuped a little, and that snapped Cas back into reality. “Cas, don’t cry. S’not your fault. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Dean,” Cas whispered. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry for the way I treated you then.” He held his arms out in a welcoming gesture and Dean practically crumbled into him. Cas felt every shudder, every whimper of his husband against his chest. He held onto him tighter. When Dean had cried himself out, he raised his head to look Cas in the eyes. Cas met his gaze and brought Dean’s hands to his lips, kissing them. He healed the bruises from falling out of bed, kissing each one softly. Dean let his eyes close, felt Cas taking care of him. _This_ was his Cas—not the warrior who had first walked into that barn so long ago. This was Cas, his husband, his lover, and his partner.

Dean felt Cas’ weight shift and suddenly Dean was in Cas’ arms. Cas lifted Dean back onto their bed and cupped his face in his hands to get Dean’s attention. “Beloved, I will never hurt you. I said that in my vows. Do you believe me?” Dean nodded, his eyes not leaving Cas’. “Rest here Beloved. I am going to fetch you some water, and then I will hold you until I convince you that you are safe, here, with me." Dean nodded shakily. When Cas left their bedroom, Dean gathered his knees to his chest, letting his head drop. _Safe_ , he thought.

Cas closed the door softly and took a moment to himself. He had a job, he needed to care for his husband. He quietly padded down the hallway to the Bunker kitchen. He smiled, thinking about how much his husband loves having his own kitchen. As the kettle warmed, Cas pulled two bags of mint tea out of the cupboard and placed them next to the two glasses of water he had already filled, waiting for the telltale whistle. When it did whistle, Cas pulled the kettle off the stove quickly so as not to wake Sam. With a touch of his favorite organic honey, he carried the tea and water back to their bedroom on a tray. He hesitated at the door, and decided he should knock, given Dean’s shaken state. He heard the telltale low grunt from his husband and pushed the door open, deftly closing it with one hand while the other held the tray. He decided against locking it. This was all about Dean feeling safe. Confined spaces don’t do that for Dean.

“Here,” Cas sat down next to Dean, holding the glass of water to his lips. Dean didn’t even complain that he could hold the water for himself. He let Cas take care of him. Cas then handed him the mug of tea, and Dean held it to his chest for a moment before inhaling the calming aroma. Cas knew what he needed so well. Hydration, relaxation, space. As Dean nursed the tea, Cas' eyes drifted over him. There was an angry bruise forming on his cheekbone that Cas must have missed in the dark. Tears had dried on Dean’s face, coupled with streaks of sweat running down his forehead. Cas could reach out and mojo the sweat from his husband’s skin, but he knew Dean craved tactile affection. When they had first begun dating, Dean was so touch-starved that holding hands rocked his world and a simple touch to his cheek had his eyes wide with adoration. As Dean finished his tea, Cas retreated into their bathroom, fetching a washcloth and bowl, filling it with warm water. Dean watched him as he emerged, saying nothing. They didn’t have to talk. These touches might as well be a language of their own.

Cas knelt in front of Dean, mirroring the position Dean had taken in his nightmare state. He soaked the washcloth and wrung out the excess. Dean’s tea sat upon the nightstand, forgotten. Cas reached up to Dean’s face, healing the bruise on his cheek as he swiped over the expanse of his husband’s face. Dean again closed his eyes, repeating the mantra he had been the entire night, _safe_. The tears and sweat forgotten, Cas moved down Dean’s body, taking careful notice of any injuries he had missed. When he reached Dean’s knees he stopped, pressing a kiss to the left one, resting his forehead against it. Dean laced his fingers in Cas’ hair, a silent gesture of…forgiveness, love, blessing. It could be anything and Dean would gladly give it him.

Cas gently ran the washcloth over Dean’s feet and Dean sucked in a breath. This wasn’t the first time they’d reenacted this biblical scene. After a hard hunt, a blowup fight, a hunter’s death, you could find them in the safety of their bedroom, pouring their hearts and water out over the other’s feet. Dean understood the significance, and over time the ritual gained specific meaning to them. It meant, _I almost lost you,_ or _I’m sorry I yelled_ , or _I’m mourning with you_. Tonight, it took on a new meaning: _you don’t need to fear me_. Cas looked up from his ministrations, locking eyes with Dean. Dean took a mental snapshot of this moment, of Cas dropping his warrior stance to comfort him. To be a servant to him. Dean locked his lips to the angel's, releasing all his fear.

_Safe._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is my first fic in the SPN fandom and on this site, so please be gentle with me :)
> 
> A massive thank you to loversantiquities for writing "athair ar neamh", which I found very inspiring for this piece.


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